


Whispers on the Wind

by fits_in_frames



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: omniocular, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-30
Updated: 2006-09-30
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Neville's parents "awakens".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers on the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #61 of the AU challenge.

"Neville! You don't want to miss your first train to Hogwarts!"

"Sorry, Dad," comes the squeaky response from the bedroom down the hall. Neville dashes out of his room, carrying an armful of socks and robes.

"Neville, I thought we agreed that you were done packing last night," Frank sighs, scrubbing one hand over his face.

"Sorry, Dad," Neville says absently again as he opens his trunk and stuffs the clothes in, accidentally hitting his owl's cage, making the bird screech unpleasantly.

Frank looks around the tiny apartment: it's not much--the paint peeling from the walls and no complete set of dishes to be seen--but it's home for Neville and himself, and has been since he got out of St. Mungo's two years ago. Neville finally makes a sound of triumph, and Frank ushers his son into the fireplace. Then some Floo Powder, and a cry of "Diagon Alley!" and the room swirls around them and disappears.

*

He watches Neville get on the train, laughing with his friend Ron Weasley, and something about the way he turns back and waves reminds him of Alice. Probably the smile, he thinks, as he waves back at his son and turns to go.

*

He sits across the table from her, sipping tea. Hers is untouched and dark and getting cold. She's pulling at her hair again.

"Took Neville to King's Cross today," he says after what may have been a minute or an hour. Time stands still in this room, he's found, and he likes it that way. He doesn't remember being in here before feeling his mother holding his hand. It was like a strong gust of wind came through and opened the curtains to a play that everyone else had been watching with rapt attention for eight years.

Alice shakes her head. A nurse comes over and tells him he should probably go home. He drains his mug and kisses Alice on the cheek. She stops shaking her head, but despite the nurse's best efforts, her hair is now coming out in clumps.

*

He stops by his mother's on his way home. They talk about Neville the whole time. They always talk about Neville. Mum worries that he's growing up without a mother; Frank worries that she's being overbearing. He puts his robes on when he leaves, even though he's just walking down the street.

*

He has boxes of photographs in his closet. Alice would have put them all in albums by now, but he's too busy with his job at the Ministry that he'll go back to tomorrow, and Neville. He used to think that raising a baby was difficult, but trying to take over a boy's life after being gone for eight years was something entirely different.

He pulls out a box and opens it. This one has pictures of Neville's first birthday. Alice is waving Neville's chubby little hand at the camera and Frank has his arm around her, smiling at their son. He remembers that day, but not much after it. He doesn't remember the attack on the Potters, or being tortured, or anything at all, really, except Alice's screams ( _not my son, anything by my son, I'd rather die_ ). He fears, as he puts the box back behind his trousers, and also every time he takes it out, that she will forever stay no more than pictures on paper and whispers on the wind.


End file.
